A Butler's Shadow
by MadameLunaRaven
Summary: Pre BM:UTRH. Jason Todd spots a familiar face in the crowd and feels compelled to follow him. Will it end in heartbreak, or will it offer a brief respite from a life shrowded with bitterness and sorrow?


A Butler's Shadow

**AN: As part of a continuing effort to write more regularly (and when my school schedule allows it), as well as my continuing effort to explore the character of Jason Todd, I decided to write a story featuring Jason's feelings towards everyone's favorite butler. As far as a timeline goes, this story is meant to take place before the main events of Batman: Under the Red Hood, but after the events of The Lost Days. I consider it to be almost an antebellum period of sorts, as it takes place before the Red Hood's war against crime in Gotham—as well as his war against the Batfamily. At the time the events of this story take place, Jason has not yet hijacked the Black Mask's shipment.**

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of characters or motifs that are in the possession of DC, nor do I make an profit off of this story.**

In many ways, Jason Todd was surprised at how little Gotham had changed. There was once a time in the distant past, when Jason still swung from rooftops with his brooding mentor, when he thought the change brought on by their crime-fighting actions were actually tangible. There were still a few granules of his being that longed for that time. Everything seemed simpler then. While the Jason who stood in Gotham now understood that the simple life he thought he led was always an illusion, the child that remained within him wanted to taste the warmth of happy nostalgia. The mere fact that there was any child left was a curiosity. If the Joker had not drained all of the youth out of Jason when the harsh metal of his crowbar unleashed torrents of blood from the wounds both internal and external that it inflicted, then the state of misery Jason found himself in during his fist year as a walking corpse should have. And the League of Assassins—well, suffice to say they didn't work with naïve youths—only hardened shells of people. Despite all of the things working against any remaining childish fire, there still remained such a flame somewhere within Jason Todd. Crazed men and strict teachers had beaten it down over the years, but the light flickered on. It was such a light that led to the task Jason was currently engaged in.

When he had seen the man's face in the crowd, Jason did not know how to react. It had been the first time in many years—the first time since his death at the hands of the Joker—that Jason had glimpsed his face. The face of Alfred Pennyworth, butler to Bruce Wayne. Mentor and stand-in father to Batman—and formerly, one of Jason Todd's favorite people. He hadn't always viewed the Butler so fondly though.

After that fateful night when a young Jason Todd—a street kid with a hell of a lot of gumption—attempted to jack the Dark Knight's car, and after Bruce had decided to take Jason on as his new robin(or as Jason liked to say, "his new project"), adjusting to the Wayne manor had not been easy. Bruce had suspected that Jason's short stay Ma Gunn's School of Crime had troubled Jason, and he was right. Not that the two ever talked about what trouble each other. Unlike the relationship between Dick Grayson—Bruce's "first project"—and Batman, Jason did not become a happy-go-lucky sort of sidekick. He and Bruce never had a relationship like Bruce and Dick had. This was probably because neither wanted such a relationship. Dick might have gone solo, but he still held a special place in Bruce's heart. Jason had never wanted to replace him. Had he wanted to be a better Robin? Absolutely. The relationship that Jason and Bruce would develop over time however, was one of like hearts. Bruce had seen his younger self in Jason and contrariwise, Jason had seen a representative of what he could become in Bruce. Batman was strong, daring, smart, and brave. After his training as Robin began, Jason felt confidant that had he had more of Batman's characteristics, he never would have let his mother overdose. He would have stopped her—just like how Batman stopped everything bad from happening. An older Jason would find this naivete to be hysterical. But in the eyes of a troubled street youth with no future in sight, Batman seemed a god. Pennyworth, on the hand, seemed like a nuisance.

Initially, all the Butler seemed to do was correct Jason on _everything_. "Please mind your language young master", "please don't track mud into the house", "please make sure to eat all of your vegetables"—

Please, please, please. To the average kid, this was a regular part of having parental figures. To Jason Todd, whose departed mother had never been fond of rules of any kind and whose father was hardly ever present to begin with, learning to adjust to no longer being the boss of everything was exceedingly difficult. To this day, Jason couldn't tell you when exactly he started to actually like Alfred. It might have been after a few weeks, it might have been after a few months. Regardless, Jason really came to love Alfred. He had never had grandparents, and most of the older folk who lived in Crime Alley weren't grandparent material. In fact, Alfred became more than a grandfatherly figure. He was the ear who listened, he was the shoulder to cry on, and he was the best damn cook in the world. There were no defter hands to be found when it came to tending to wounds—be they physical or emotional—or flipping the perfect chocolate-chip pancake. Alfred also inspired the best in Bruce. When Alfred was around, Jason always benefited. His mere presence reminded Bruce to behave and to allow his humanity to seep through in precious moments of awkward praise and affection. So naturally, when Jason saw Alfred in one of Gotham's many crowds, he felt compelled to follow. As petrified as he was at the prospect of being discovered, Jason simply _had _to follow.

Alfred wasn't the easiest man to tail. Had he known he was being shadowed, Jason was sure that his SIS skills would make following even more a task. As it was however, Alfred seemed to have no inclination that he was being followed. It was the butler's busy nature that made him so hard to tail. Jason waited for a few minutes outside of a large grocery store before finally giving in to his curiosity. Pulling his jacket's hood up, Jason shuffled into the store. It was the fourth store Alfred had been to since Jason had started his pursuit earlier that morning. He always bought something too. Jason recalled one of his birthdays at the Wayne manor. When Alfred had inquired as to what sort of cake the "young master" would want, Jason was stumped. In all of his life, Jason had never had an entire cake for his birthday. Most years, his birthday didn't really matter. In fact, if Bruce had not managed to find his birth records, Jason would be hard-pressed to remember exactly when his birthday was. Before coming to Wayne manor, Jason had only one concrete recollection of any sort of celebration. He had been seven years old, and his mother had tried to bake. Their apartment did not have a working oven, so Catharine Todd had decided to make cupcakes on their heater(which was one of the only decent things his father had ever brought home). Even now, Jason could still recall the feelings of skepticism. He had been a fairly mature seven-year-old, made to grow up before his time in order to cope with his mother's addiction and his absent father's connection to crime. So even then, Jason could see the folly in trying to bake on heater. Catharine Todd would not be swayed however, and make cupcakes she did. In a tray of six, three burned, one did not cook thoroughly, and another did not cook at all. The sixth cupcake his mother declared to be a success, and she produced a candle from god only knows where. The two had split the cupcake, and it was the best thing Jason Todd had ever eaten in his seven years of life.

So, when Alfred asked what type of cake he might like, Jason's only request was for a "heater" cake. The old butler did not laugh, or gawk, or even act confused. He merely smiled and said, "as you wish young master". Sure enough, come August 16th, Alfred produced a cake he could not have possibly known how to make. Jason didn't know how, and Jason didn't care. From that point onwards however, Jason began to think the same thing the robin before him thought: Alfred Pennyworth has special powers.

The grocery store unnerved Jason. Too many people, too much food to remind him of the hunger in his stomach. Finding Alfred wasn't too hard however, as you did not see many gentlemen dressed so formally to do grocery shopping. The smiles on the store worker's faces seemed to imply that Alfred was both a familiar and welcomed sight. Jason followed Alfred to the deli and waited at a distance, observing him askance whilst pretending to look at some nearby bread. Alfred looked the same as always. If he had aged at all, Jason couldn't tell. His moustache was still groomed in the same style and with the same precision. His hair was still gray, and he still favored a bowling hat for outings. In fact, Alfred was so eerily the same that it caused Jason to feel relief, anger, and bitterness all at once. A part of him never wanted Alfred to change, the way a child never wants their grandfather to change. However, a selfish seed in Jason was furious that Alfred was unchanged. Having already watched Bruce at a distance—both as Bruce Wayne and Batman—Jason was well aware that his master had not suffered too much from his death. As a matter of fact, it hadn't taken him long to replace Jason, and with some rich whelp none the less. But then, Jason supposed that Bruce had learned his lesson when it came to taking in street kids: they grew into failures.

The fact that Bruce had apparently moved on did not distress Jason as much as he supposed it should. After all, if Bruce hadn't killed the Joker, clearly Jason's life and death didn't matter to him as much as Bruce's life had mattered to Jason. But Alfred—Alfred was the only person in the world Jason felt would never abandon him. So why didn't he look more broken? Jason's fists clenched at his sides, and his thoughts turned dark. Yet still he watched Alfred, followed him from aisle to aisle, in hopes of accomplishing some unknown thing. After a while, Jason's temper mellowed. Before his death and subsequent resurrection, Jason had always been a little moody. Since his dip in the Lazarus Pit, Jason had spiraled from moody to bipolar. His single-minded determination for revenge and his years of training had hardened his physical reaction to his moods. However, internally Jason was a torrent of raw emotions that never truly rested. He supposed it wasn't fair to expect Alfred to act like a grieving grandfather years after his death. The flame left over by the old Jason actually didn't want such a long grief for Alfred. He cared for him too much. The new flame ignited by the Lazarus pits did not know what to feel, so he just kept on walking. He followed Alfred to a few different locations, noting that somewhere along the way Alfred began to carry a brown paper bag with him. It could have been another purchased good, but Jason was suspicious.

Alfred didn't leave this bag when he left the car like the others. He took care to take it with him. It was probably something secret for Bruce. Or maybe—maybe it was for the "new project". When the sky began to turn, Alfred headed down a road that Jason was very familiar with. It was the road to the Wayne manor, and it was also where Jason really ought to have stopped his pursuit. Like a malfunctioning wind-up toy, Jason kept following. He knew it was reckless, even with the added precautions he was taking. Jason had hidden his bike along the road and walked the rest of the way, making use of the growing darkness. He went by memory, hoping that the batcave's cameras were still located in the same places. He was chiding himself all the while. When he did finally arrive at his destination, Alfred's car was already inside the manor gates. Jason was sure that he was already inside, so when he heard a creak from the nearby cemetery gate he nearly jumped out of his skin. Reaching for his gun instinctively, he waited in the shadows. Alfred emerged, and Jason's tension partially subsided. He waited for him to enter the manor before relaxing completely.

A sudden moment of cognizance hit Jason, and he cursed at himself for being so stupid. He had come so far, planned for so long—too long! He couldn't allow himself to do reckless things. And what was more reckless than sneaking into the place where he would be least safe. He had no way of knowing if Batman and his new puppy had gone out for patrol. For all he knew, the bat mobile would speed out of one of the secret exits at any minute. And what if the exits had changed? What if Jason was standing on one? That should have decided it. Jason should have snuck back to the main road and to his bike's location and sped the hell out of there. However, Jason wasn't remotely rational today. He did not now why—maybe the pits were finally starting to catch-up with him. Maybe Gotham was too much and too soon. Whatever the case, he was determined not to leave until he had satisfied that itch that had driven him back to the manor. Creeping out into the opening, moving in synch with the shadows cast by the manor gates, Jason stealthily slid into the cemetery. He squelched the part of himself that wanted to turn in fear. He could still remember waking up in a confused haze, his mind reliving his last moments in a continuous loop. He had spent hours frantically digging his way out of his cold grave, until at last he had only two remaining fingernails and hands full of dirt and splinters. The clarity in which Jason reminded every gasp frightened him. He dreamt about it often. So often in fact, that there were days he could scarcely distinguish between the reality of the present and the reality of that tormented day when his mind came back from death in tatters. Jason could not will his legs to move until he noticed something out of place. In front of his tombstone, Jason spied a flickering light. Curiosity overpower fear, Jason crept forward. As he drew closer, the light illuminated a shape. It was a cupcake with one lone candle. Frowning, Jason picked the confection up and turned it in his hands. As he did so, his watch let out a silent pulse, signaling the turn of the hour. The candlelight illuminated the screen, which read:

12:00 a.m. 08/16

Jason blinked once in disbelief before he set the cupcake down and smiled. It was the first genuine smile that Jason Todd had made in a very long time. After staying a few moments longer, Jason turned to go. Before leaving the cemetery behind and before starting the long, cautious trek back to safety, Jason whispered, "thanks gramps".


End file.
